J can't help or hide the uncertainty in his expression, biting his lip as he considers that. He doesn't want to doubt S, doesn't think he's lying exactly, but it doesn't feel right either. Check-ups are reasonable, he knows, and probably should be routine, even if they never really have been for him. He just can't see, then, why S wouldn't have mentioned it already or what would have precipitated his making an appointment if it's nothing out of the ordinary.
"How routine can it be?" he asks, trying to sound more wry than confused, not sure he succeeds. "This is the first I've heard of it." S seems fine, though, both in terms of his health and what he's saying. There's something there that J couldn't put into words that makes him feel it's not quite as simple as S says, but no real reason for him to think it's anything serious either. He just also can't understand why S wouldn't mention it. It's not like they have to tell each other every little thing all the time, but this seems like something they'd usually bring up.
He can't tell if he's being paranoid, and it leaves him uncomfortable, awkwardly shifting on the couch to stretch out his legs as if that make shake some of the strangeness off of him. Glancing over again, hesitant, he nods. "Everything's really fine?" It worries him that he might seem suspicious or distrustful, that he might be imagining problems that don't exist. If S insists things are fine, he tells himself, he'll accept it. He can't let his imagination run away with him and get him worked up over nothing, and S wouldn't lie to him, especially about something important.
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"How routine can it be?" he asks, trying to sound more wry than confused, not sure he succeeds. "This is the first I've heard of it." S seems fine, though, both in terms of his health and what he's saying. There's something there that J couldn't put into words that makes him feel it's not quite as simple as S says, but no real reason for him to think it's anything serious either. He just also can't understand why S wouldn't mention it. It's not like they have to tell each other every little thing all the time, but this seems like something they'd usually bring up.
He can't tell if he's being paranoid, and it leaves him uncomfortable, awkwardly shifting on the couch to stretch out his legs as if that make shake some of the strangeness off of him. Glancing over again, hesitant, he nods. "Everything's really fine?" It worries him that he might seem suspicious or distrustful, that he might be imagining problems that don't exist. If S insists things are fine, he tells himself, he'll accept it. He can't let his imagination run away with him and get him worked up over nothing, and S wouldn't lie to him, especially about something important.